Love and Cyanide
by SchattenShadow
Summary: Holmes and Watson set out to solve the murder of a student who answered a dating ad. Love is not Sherlock's expertise so naturally he needs his Watson. Written in Doctor Watson's POV, rated T for slash.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes was sitting in his usual armchair with my laptop balanced on his knees. I found myself jealous that his profession allowed him to lounge as I toiled all day for modest wages, something I knew he would never subject himself to. My bad mood stemmed from me being beyond tired, as well as having to deal with a very difficult mother with an even more difficult child. My previous patient had spent nearly an hour screaming at me for callously shoving a vaccination needle in her poor, sick son; her insistence that I was a medical monster had left my nerves raw. However, Sherlock must have been in good spirits because instead of his usual early evening moping he had set himself to violating my personal space, which included using my laptop without permission.

"I don't understand why you insist on using my computer when your own is not only a better, more expensive model, but _yours_." I snapped. I hoped this sort of comment would cause him to stop browsing, or at least apologize, but he ignored me and continued to tap the keys rhythmically.

"Money doesn't make everything better Watson." He replied without looking up.

I bit my lip to keep the fury from roaring out of me. I knew him well enough to recognize he didn't mean to upset me, but I couldn't overlook his blatantly disrespect towards my privacy. This wasn't his first violation, nor was the first time I had clearly expressed my views on personal property.

"I've told you numerous times," I hissed, stomping over towards him. "don't use my things without asking." I snapped. Once again I snapped the laptop shut nearly taking his fingers off and ripped it away from him.

"Watson?" He said softly.

"Yes?"

"May I use your laptop for a moment?"

"No!" I shouted sitting in the chair opposite to him. I lifted the screen up briefly and saw he was checking news websites.

"Watson?"

"What is it, for God's sake." I mumbled, hoping for an apology.

"Will you please fetch my laptop from the kitchen?"

"Fetch your-" I huffed. "-Sherlock, you're physically able to fetch your own things."

Holmes folded his hands together and his eyes fluttered shut. I shot him a scathing look I was sure he could see, even beyond hooded eyes, and willed him to feel my displeasure from across the coffee table.

"So far asking has yielded poor results." Sherlock said coldly. "And it's put you into an intolerable state."

I had enough abuse and decided to remove myself before I violated my integrity and hippocratic oath.

"Fine." I snarled. "I won't subject you to my intolerable moods any longer. Me, and _my things_, are leaving!"

To my fury he didn't say a word, he just opened his eyes long enough to impartially watch me struggle to unplug my laptop charger from beneath his chair. He lifted his long legs as I crawled under him, and for a short moment his socked foot clumsily brush against my hip. I felt a pressing urge to get my things and go, a part of me was sure I could feel the cruel part of him laughing at my growing, unexplained embarrassment. I yanked the plug out of the power strip savagely and the light above me shut off.

"Watson?"

"I know!" I replied in frustration. I switched the adapter back on and stood up suddenly.

I saw his eyebrows lift on his amused face before the blood-rush to my head spotted my vision.

"I was hoping you might assist me, that is... if you're not busy."

"You have a case?" I asked taking deep breaths.

"Of course." Sherlock replied.

I felt my anger melt away into fatigue, my face still felt hot as I rotated the laptop charging cable idly in my hands, avoiding my irritating room mate's intent stare.

"What did you need from me?" I asked.

"Your laptop." He said flatly. My shoulders slumped visually. "Just for a moment, no need to plug it back in, I don't want to trouble you further."

I retrieved my laptop and he sat it down on his legs as he had minutes before. A wave of defeat washed over me, and something else, a deeper emotion like humiliation and disappointment in myself.

"Hopkins believes it's an 'open and shut case'." Sherlock read aloud staring at the screen. "Well of course he does." he huffed.

I leaned over him to see what he was snarling over. It was an article that had been posted today, and at first glance it appeared to be a blog on some college website. Upon further inspection I saw a caption of a dating ad, sort of a digital cupid for students on campus. Next to it was a picture of a very lovely girl who I was certain had no problems finding partners in life instead of on the internet. Murder was written in the headline and my insides clenched.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"The victim." Sherlock replied.

"Why was she murdered?" I asked with a pang of pity.

"She's the murderer."

"But you said she was the victim!"

"Pardon, she's a victim of bad press and an even worse justice department. D.I Hopkins believes she's the murderer."

"But she's not?"

"No."

"How do you know?" I asked appalled.

"I inspected the crime scene." Sherlock informed me. "The girl, Reshma, wasn't even there when Isaac Kathy died."

"Who?"

Holmes handed the laptop to me before shooting out of his seat and stepping into his room. I scrolled down the article to see a photo of a handsome boy who had answered Reshma's ad and was apparently laying dead in her room, a boy loved by many and missed by more. Reshma had admitted to luring the man into her home before serving him tea laced with cyanide.

"Why was he murdered?" I asked searching for a reason in the article, I had reached the end of it with no conclusion.

"I have theories, but none confirmed." Sherlock said hopping back into the room with his coat and scarf. "Are you coming?"

Before I could reply he exited the room leaving the door open, undoubtedly left for me to follow.

* * *

Authors Note: I figured if I was going to write a Sherlock Holmes story I had better do it right, so I added a little mystery in it. This is just the opening chapter of a fic I have planned out. The mild tones of Watson/Holmes slash will pick up speed in later chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

We arrived at Rothchester University after a silent car ride. Sherlock spent most of it playing on his phone and being generally unresponsive as I questioned his occasional "hmm"s, as well as his lengthy pauses between "that's interesting". I decided to leave him to his sleuthing and take a nap. It wasn't long before I felt his hand shake me awake roughly.

"Here we are." Holmes said getting out of the taxi nimbly as it came to a stop. I groggily climbed out after him as he paid the driver.

The street lights had just began to turn on, and I saw the name for the building in front of us. It was a campus dorm room.

"I thought the boy was killed in a home, not a dormitory." I said trying to match his long stride.

"I already surveyed the murder scene, we're moving past that." Sherlock replied. "Do try to keep up."

I was unsure if he meant physically or mentally. When we approached the dorm two drunk girls opened the door for us as they sauntered out of the dorm, laughing and pointing at Sherlock's curled head. I grinned as he patted his hair somewhat self-consciously. His moment of vanity left him as he caught the door and whipped his phone out, keeping it level with his eye before speeding down the isle sideways.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, maybe, but probably not, no..." he said to himself dodging students as they stared at us.

I apologized for bumping into a girl with a towel on her head and again for Sherlock nearly bowling over every stranger in his way. He finally came to the end of the hallway and turned towards the other side to began his odd side-ways shuffle again. This continued until the third floor and we were beginning to draw a bit of a crowd, however Holmes was so involved in his investigation I wondered if he noticed.

"No, no, no, no, no- yes!" Sherlock shouted with glee. He stopped before a door and handed me his phone. "Observe the dry-erase board."

On his phone was a photo of a girl smiling in front of the door before us. The dry-erase board behind her was decorated with script, but it was cut off by the girls body. Looking up I read "Sarah", as well as the stars that were drawn around her name.

"Brilliant, you've found her." I remarked.

"Of course I did." Holmes smiled with ill contained pleasure.

He knocked on the door and shuffled impatiently until the door was opened.

"Can I help you?" The girl said looking more unsure of us by the second.

"Sarah Simmons?"

"What do you want?" She asked closing the door a bit. "Make it quick, I have homework to do."

"You organized and ran the college dating ads." Sherlock said.

The girl, maybe embarrassed to have such a sensitive subject discussed in the hallway, opened the door swiftly and rushed us in.

"I shut the site down okay? It's not my fault that psychopath that killed someone." she snarled slamming the door closed. "I thought you people were done questioning me."

"We're not the police, we're working independently." I replied.

"Who are you? And how did you find me?" She asked.

"Facebook." Sherlock said grabbing his phone from my hands and holding up the photo. "It's amazing how much information people unknowingly share on the internet."

"If you're not the police I'm not talking to you." She replied sullenly.

"She asked you to take down the ad, didn't she?" Sherlock interrupted.

"I don't have to answer that." Sarah snapped.

Holmes scrolled through his phone idly before holding up a photo of Sarah drunk and passed out on a couch, wearing only a bra and jeans.

"Your best friend Julie cataloged your last drunken escapade." Sherlock explained. "I've visited your mothers Facebook page as well, your parents are devout Christians, am I right?" He then began to whistle the tune for "no more teachers, no more books...".

Sarah bit her lip, looking between me and Sherlock before throwing up her hands.

"It was Saturday, and I- I was busy." She flushed. "I work on the site five days a week, I told her I'd take down her post on Monday."

"Why did she want her post removed?" I asked.

"Probably because it was an insult to her boyfriend." Sarah replied.

"Ooo, now things are starting to get interesting. Tell us about this boyfriend." Sherlock smirked.

"He stopped me on my way to the party and told me he wanted me to take her ad down." Sarah shrugged. "I figured she sent him to make me do it after I told her no."

"Where is this boyfriend now?" I asked.

"I don't know where he lives but I know his name." She admitted. "He's in my chemistry class. Jeremy Wright. ...Hey, you won't show my mum those pictures, will you?"

"Why would I? She already knows about them." Sherlock said holding up his phone to her.

"God damn it." Sarah cursed reading the Facebook page.

"Hm, your mother said the same thing."

"Good-bye, whoever you are." She snarled. She pushed us into the crowded hallway and I jumped back in time before she slammed the door on me, smashing me in twain.

"That's extraordinary." I mumbled.

"I know." Sherlock agreed. "Facebook has made my job so much easier."

* * *

Authors Note: And the plot thickens, like a good soup or a good gravy. I've got the majority of this story in my head, it's just taking time to put it into words.


End file.
